


Or Both

by thesilverarrow



Series: Neville/Draco Ficlets [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Not Epilogue Compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-18
Updated: 2014-05-18
Packaged: 2018-01-25 13:14:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1649921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesilverarrow/pseuds/thesilverarrow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He supposes it's a cliché, but he doesn’t actually care. Coming home to find his very expensive boyfriend in the yard, smeared with dirt and sweating…  Well, it's sort of mesmerizing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Or Both

He supposes it's a cliché, but he doesn’t actually care. Coming home to find his very expensive boyfriend in the yard, smeared with dirt and sweating… Well, it's sort of mesmerizing.

He sort of loves Draco's aristocratic air – if he didn't, this kind of thing wouldn't work, of course. Draco was made to pour himself into tailored suits and douse himself with outrageous muggle cologne. His light eyes are frequently bewitching, and his pale, delicate skin looks beautiful against the dark sheets on their bed. Something about that same man carrying tools and buckets toward the shed, muscles in his thin white arms straining, feels downright vulgar.

And today Neville is in a suit. Of course he is. Stupid testifying at the Wizengamot. Stupid working on a Saturday. Draco looked him over that morning, pressing a hand to his chest and staring at him long enough that Neville suspected he might be late to work. But Draco just pulled him close, kissed him quick and dirty, and then pushed him toward the floo.

Now, at the end of the day, Neville stands in the doorway for a minute, looking out over the yard and watching Draco walk to the water pump to wash his hands. Draco knows he's being watched. He walks slowly, putting just enough swagger into his walk to make Neville bite his lip. Neville's about to head down the steps when Draco, who's not even looking up at him, holds up a hand.

"It's soggy down here," he calls out. "And you're wearing my shoes."

"Oh," he replies. "Forgot."

"I know."

So Neville has to wait for Draco to make his way to the steps and up onto the porch, has to watch the way his black t-shirt sticks to his shoulders and his denims ride a bit too low on narrow hips. Neville lets him think he's going to just step aside, follow him into the house, but then he suddenly grabs him and with one hand presses him back against one of the front porch columns.

"You'll muss your suit," Draco says, voice calm but body vibrating with tension.

"It's my suit," Neville replies. "And didn't I tell you, my boyfriend is pretty amazing with laundering charms."

"If he's your boyfriend, he had no choice but to learn."

Neville rolls his eyes before he leans in to kiss him. Instantly, he feels Draco's hands at his hips, holding him back. Which is just fine by him. He was actually going for a bit of a tease. While he wouldn't at all mind mussing his suit, it really might take the edge off Draco's arousal to see a good white shirt get smudged with dirt.

"Does it look like I'm trying to get dirty here?" Neville says. 

Draco just raises an eyebrow. He doesn't protest when Neville leans in again, just his head this time, and gives him a quick nip and a long, wet kiss on the neck. He tastes like grass and salty sweat and…

Neville jerks back quickly. "You potted the rosemary?"

Draco grimaces. "Was I not supposed to?"

"Supposed to, no," Neville replies. "Welcome to, yes. Very." He shakes his head, smiling. "The basil, too?"

Draco nods. Then he takes a small step forward, letting his leg slide gently between Neville's, nudging their hips almost together.

"Gah, you teasing twat," Neville mutters, pushing him away. "Inside. You're going to have your bones jumped, so either you get clean or I get out of this suit."

"Or both."

Neville narrows his eyes at him. He knows what he's suggesting, and he swore to himself that he wouldn't do it again. And not in a cute, we-shouldn't-but-oh-well-let's-do-it-anyway kind of way.

"You know how well shower sex turns out when I'm involved."

Draco sighs, glancing reflexively at his formerly broken ankle, then at the scar that still mars Neville's forehead. Suddenly, though, a wicked smile comes to his lips. 

"All right, then," he says. "I shower, and you get started with the sex."

Then he slips out of Neville's grasp and saunters through the door, already peeling the damp, dirty shirt from his body. 

Oh, goody, Neville thinks. A show.


End file.
